Rivers of Orion by Dana Kelly (best detective novels of all time txt) 📗

can work out delivery with the MABAS techs. Look, April, this is the only way I can guarantee our safety, and it’s the only way I can make sure the prisoner won’t report the airlock incident.”

“He won’t talk,” said April. “Orin gave me his word. You don’t have to do this!”

“Don’t be naïve. I know you don’t approve, but the prisoner is just too much of an unknown.” Casey swiped through star charts. “Krané’s in the clear for now, but don’t you ever lie to me again. Understood?”

Fury burned in April’s eyes. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

“Nope, it’s right here where I left it.” Casey tapped the side of her head. “Try to relax. The prisoner’s going to be fine.”

“He’ll wipe Orin’s memories,” said April.

“Of course, he will,” said Casey.

April seethed. “Ky’s a sadist.”

“He’s my friend,” said Casey.

“He’s your ex,” said April.

Casey smiled. “That only sweetens the deal.”

“For the record, I object!”

“Maybe you should take some personal time,” said Casey. “Unwind out of this prisoner. I can handle the transfer without you.”

“Is that an order?” asked April.

“Only if you need it to be.” She regarded April firmly.

“Pusillanimous,” said April.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what you are,” said April. “Pusillanimous.”

“What’s pusillanimous mean?” asked Casey.

“Look it up,” said April, and she marched from the command deck.

◆◆◆

Mike sat bolt upright in his sleeping bag, and it sagged down to his waist. After rubbing his eyes, he yawned and leaned back on his arms. The dream had seemed so vivid. Whoever she was, she was pretty, he thought, and he smiled.

“Hey,” said April, and he whirled around. “Are you still with me?”

“I’m… dreaming?”

“No, you’re not dreaming,” said April.

“Who are you?” asked Mike.

“April Sattari, first officer aboard the starship Watchtower. We’re transporting your friend, Orin Webb.”

Mike glanced around the storage room. “How did you get here?”

“I’m not here. I’m a telepath, and I’m projecting my consciousness onto your optic and audio nerves.”

Torsha stirred. “Who are you talking to?”

“Go back to sleep,” whispered Mike.

“Okay,” Torsha muttered. She smiled and rolled onto her side.

“If you think your responses to me, I’ll hear them,” said April. “But we need to be quick. I can’t do this for very long.”

What’s going on?

“I found your flight plan,” she said. “You’re bound for the same space station that we were. I expect you were planning to intercept us, possibly to offer my captain a transaction she’d have been unwise to refuse.”

Mike laughed, and he nodded. That’s very astute of you.

“We’re not headed for that space station anymore. By the time you get there, we’ll be long gone.”

Where are you going?

“My captain plans to subcontract the delivery of your friend to a rogue smuggler named Ky Rego. They’re planning to meet this Friday night at 9:00 PM Galactic Standard Time, at the Rocksaugh Steelworks asteroid excavation site. That’s this Friday, November 8th. Got it?”

Mike’s blood ran cold. A rogue smuggler? What’s wrong with her?

“She’s scared.”

I bet she is.

“Now, Miguel, I need you to pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you.”

It’s Mike. Only Nimbus calls me Miguel.

“Fine. Mike. Listen to me and remember. The excavation site isn’t marked on any civil star charts; you need to adjust course to 37-mark-272 and step on it. That starship you’re in should be able to push 3Gs without breaking a sweat. You’ve only got six days, and there’s a lot of ground to cover.”

How do I know you’re not just trying to throw us off your trail?

“You don’t, but I really hope you believe me.” April looked worried. “If that transfer goes down, your friend is gone. They’ll wipe Orin’s mind.” Sensing Mike’s doubt, she quickly added, “Just go with your gut, okay? I’ve got no better advice to offer.”

Mike wrung his hands. Even if I believe you—and I’m not saying I do—I’m not the captain of this ship. I can’t just go ordering the helmsman around like that.

“37-mark-272,” she repeated. “Friday night.”

You don’t understand. We’re stowaways!

April smiled calmly. “If you want Orin back, you won’t be for much longer. 37…”

“Mark-272,” they said in unison.

“Friday night,” said Mike. “I got it.”

“Good.”

Why are you helping him?

April broke eye contact, and she clasped her hands at her back. “Goodbye, Mike. You seem like a smart person and a good friend. I truly hope we’ll meet in person very soon.” She smiled slightly, and she vanished.

“Bye.” Mike faced forward and pulled his knees to his chest.

“Miguel Santos, were you hallucinating or simply talking in your sleep?” asked Nimbus. A lengthy cord linked him to a nearby charging socket. Glittering points of light cascaded beneath his surface.

“Neither,” said Mike.

“Is everything okay?” mumbled Torsha.

“No, it very much isn’t,” said Mike, and he glanced at his friends. “We have a very big problem.”

Torsha rolled onto her back, suddenly awake. “What kind of problem?”

Mike recounted the conversation he shared with April and asked the others for their thoughts.

“Miguel Santos, empirical evidence suggests you are likely sleep deprived or in need of psychiatric assistance. However, I have experienced neither an internal nor external thoughtform event. Therefore, you must do what you believe is right,” said Nimbus.

Torsha sank into her sleeping bag. “My gut feeling is she’s telling the truth. That sucks because that means you’re going to talk to Captain Aguirre, and she’s going to rat us out to your dad. She’ll find her way down here, and that probably means at least Nimbus and me get to spend the rest of the trip in spaceship jail.”

“It’s called the brig, and there’re plenty of unused crew quarters on this ship. I promise I won’t let her—”

Torsha interjected, “You’re not in charge here, Mike! Don’t make promises you can’t keep. It erodes your integrity.” Drawing a deep breath, she released it slowly. “You better find a way to tranq me. They’re little, but my fangs are sharp, and if they get rough with us, I can’t promise the claws won’t come out.”

“Come on, Torsha, you’re not a little kid anymore. If your claws come out, it’s because you want them to.”

With a dry laugh,